St Moritz, Switzerland: Wacky races meet Alpine chic

Travel writer, Will Robson, tries his hand at the St Moritz City Race.

By Will Robson

8:00AM GMT 26 Dec 2009

I do a double take at the picture of the glamorous model on my ski pass, carving her way through pristine powder snow. "Yes, that's me," says Sabrina, blushing modestly in her Prada ski suit as we embark on my first thigh-burning run of the season. Now is not the time to go weak at the knees.

It's late November. Having sped by ultra-efficient train from Zurich airport the night before, I have one day to practise for the annual St Moritz City Race, and Sabrina, my guide, is ready to put me through my paces.

In a scheme no doubt dreamt up in a bar, the race organisers have built a parallel slalom course in the high street of the world's most chic ski resort. To welcome in the start of the season, we're supposed to race down it – without flying through an upmarket shop's window – before joining an alpine fashion show and party.

St Moritz likes to stage unusual alpine events, and since the start of the 20th century the Upper Engadine valley in Switzerland's south-east corner has been a playground for the rich, from the "amateurs" braving the white-knuckle Cresta Run to participants in the White Turf horse racing event across a frozen lake.

Unlike most Alpine valley resorts at this height (1,800 metres), the Upper Engadine stays wide and panoramic in aspect. A chain of pretty lakes runs its length, flanked by peaks of more than 4,000m. And being on the southern side of the Alps the valley gets more than 300 days of sunshine a year. Unlike most visitors to ski resorts, the vast majority who come here do not actually ski. Only about a third venture out on the snow; the rest come for fine dining, fashion and the party scene, or just to be seen.

Along the valley floor are stellar hotels such as the Kulm, the Kempinski and the Carlton; all suggesting that St Moritz is still best enjoyed by people ranging from rich to super-rich. But surely the recession has led even shipping magnates and steel billionaires to rein in their spending? Apparently not. While many can be spotted driving 4x4 Fiat Pandas instead of Mercedes, that's only because Pandas are better on icy roads.

As we sweep down slopes that wouldn't exist without broadsides from snow-cannon, which cover 40 per cent of the main Corvatsch and Corviglia areas, I begin to realise that ordinary punters have much to gain from the patronage of the very wealthy. For example, in the Fifties, Stavros Niarchos, the "Golden Greek" shipping billionaire, did the neighbourly thing and helped fund the building of ski lifts for all at Corvatsch.

But we have little time for billionaire-spotting. Gian Rico, our City Race team captain and guide (alongside the glamorous Sabrina), who shot two deer before breakfast, has us screaming down the hill, reacquainting ourselves with the joys of lactic acid and tight ski boots. And he doesn't let us stop for lunch at La Marmite, where £6,000 offerings of Cristal and caviar on the terrace with personal beaver blanket are judged too much in every sense.

Once our team has been dismissed by Gian, we return to the Chesetta Chalet in the neighbouring and far prettier village of Silvaplana. The Chesetta is a mixture of the traditional and the ultra-modern – boasting Vivienne Westwood tapestries, Etro covered furniture, bird-eating spiders in display cases and Guitar Hero 5 on the Wii in the basement gym. But the welcome from the chalet's owners, Patricia and Nikolai, and their staff is typically warm.

Gian and Sabrina are more like trusted general factotums than simple mountain masters, offering advice on everything from architecture to fine dining – they pack us off to La Bellviasta, a gem of a restaurant. The produce couldn't be fresher. The owner shoots the game and hangs the meat in his basement. Appetites sated, we retire early in preparation for the next day's race.

We ease our start-number bibs over our jackets as the Tannoy blasts a "wilkommen" message over the heads of jolly glühwein-drinking crowds. Yes, I'll have another one of those, please.

The course may be only 220 metres long and not exactly steep, but there are plenty of people in Spandex racing suits swinging their ski boots in intimidating warm-up. I can't help feeling a little trepidation as I mount the scaffolding to the start, but feel better when I spot a couple of people each with head inside a lavatory seat. This is not a bout of pre-race nerves but some of the entrants in fancy dress, who are clearly taking things less than seriously.

Our team of three is up against another team in a relay format; as the first racer reaches the bottom he whacks a large button, triggering a green light at the top for the next team member to erupt from the start gate. We eye our opponents – they look small. At least we have momentum on our side.

Gian goes first, handing me a healthy lead, which I've lost by the time I pass the Bogner shop. Skating on the flatter section to get every bit of speed I can, I drop into a tuck and cross the finish line, smacking into the padded barrier, fortuitously right next to the big button. Gian almost looks impressed. But it's all in vain. Our anchor man has button-pressing issues and the Tannoy announces that "Team English Press" is disqualified.

Veteran Swiss ski racers such as Bruno Kernen, Conradin Cathomen and Dani Mahrer provide the glamour, but as a team of men in pink tights, tutus and fluorescent Deely Boppers goes past I wonder if we might not be the only Britons taking part.

Next day we head for the north-facing and more challenging Corvatsch slopes. That said, here the piste guardians adopt a civilised approach to winter sports, smoothing out all but a few mogul fields across the 400 kilometres of runs through the valley.

Freed from the pressure of competition, and with almost empty slopes below us, we make the most of this early-season skiing. What's more, it is snowing, and there's a fair chance that it will stick around to form the all-important base for the season, in this exclusive but always engaging resort.